Our Benefactors
by TKnavigator
Summary: Mass Effect AU. Humanity has lost the First Contact War against the Turians, long before humans even had the chance to discover the Charon Relay. A young Shepard is drafted into Earths Turian lead "Civil Protection" force, to keep order on the human homeworld and prevent any uprising against the Hierarchy, under the watchful eye of the mysterious V.I. known as "Overwatch".
1. Surrender

\- Prologue -

 **Summer, Earth Year 2065 AD**

These are the accounts of Captain David Anderson, United Mankind Space Command.

"And so our Turian Overlords brought me there, shackled and bound, too the seat of their power. Too their Citadel. A space station, beyond all our imaginings in its vastness, guarded by battleship upon battleship, fleet upon fleet. The vastness of their power, the futility of our struggle, laid bare for all Mankind to witness and despair. And as I stared upon it, all hope left me."

" ...if only we had known. If only we had known about the Charon relay. If only we had known that it was not a planatoid, or a moon, or any other natural body of the cosmos, but rather a gateway to Mankind's undoing. Even with our meager instruments of destruction, if we had known, everything would have been different. A few decades before, we could have sent a missile with a nuclear warhead to destroy the Charon relay, and cut off the Sol system from the rest of this wicked Galaxy. To preserve Mankind's dominion of our own star system, until the end of time."

"The Turians claimed that they came in peace, even after they destroyed our fledgling Starfleet. The finest military institution in Mankind's history, along with Earths defences and all mayor national military forces wiped out by the aliens in less than seven weeks. They cited the laws of their "Council", that no sentient species would be allowed to wipe itself out, nor destroy a "Garden World" as they call OUR Earth. Our homeworld. Now Turian troops stand guard all our great monuments, from the Pyramids to the Great Wall, as if it were theirs. Thank God they never found the Lunar landing site. All that remains to commemorate a free Mankind is a plastic flag, and a dead man's footprints in the dust."

 **Spring, Earth Year 2065 AD**

General Adrien Victus carefully regarded the human soldier in front of him.

Field Marshal Zhukov, Commander of the United Mankind's Combined Terrestrial Armed Forces. The human was obviously an elderly man, even given Victus's limited familiarity with the appearance and life cycles of humans.

 _Was it Sukof? Zookov? Spirits be damned!_

He had no idea how to pronounce the human's name, and his omni-tools translation suite provided no help on the matter.

The human's wrinkled face was as if set in stone, betraying no emotion whatsoever. Not that Victus was in any way familiar with human emotions. The man's strange uniform only served to accentuate his grave appearance.

Unlike Victus and his troops, the human and his entourage of officers wore no armor at all. Instead the old man wore an archaic looking uniform of olive green color. Atop the human's head rested a distinctive piece of headgear, a wide saucer shaped cap that rose to a peak at the front, bearing a gilded plate with a stylized emblem depicting the human homeworld. Tall, narrow black boots reaching up to the human's knee-joints, followed by a pair of trousers that widened sharply above the knee and then narrowed up towards his belted olive green tunic, which reached halfway down the humans thighs. The tunic itself was buttoned up tightly all the way to the collar, a plethora of medals pinned to the left side over the human's chest.

 _A fellow veteran._ Victus thought to himself.

No doubt this human had fought in numerous campaigns.

 _Most likely against his own kind._ Victus suppressed the urge to shake his head at the strangeness of it.

With one swift motion, the human drew the elegant blade he wore at his hip. Victus could almost feel his soldiers tense up, but they all knew this event was already carefully choreographed beforehand. The human military had expressed their wish to present their surrender according to the traditions of their people, and Victus figured it was the least he could do.

Field Marshal Zhukov then bowed his head deeply, raising his blade with both hands in front of him, offering it to the Turian General.

Reaching out with both arms, Victus gingerly took the blade in his talons, and studied it carefully. The long, curved blade gleamed brilliantly in the pale sunlight, but Victus could still see that it was very old, the wear on the hilt obvious. It was no doubt a precious heirloom, possibly handed down through generations of the human general's family.

Examining the beautiful weapon one last time, Victus carefully handed it back to the human.

Zhukov's head snapped up abruptly, his ice blue eyes widened and his jaw dropped almost imperceptibly for a split second before his stony visage returned as quickly as it had dissipated.

With almost forced calm, Victus spoke:

"We accept your surrender, Field Marshal. You may keep your blade. No doubt you and your house has done much to deserve it."

Victus waited for the brief lag until his omni-tool translated his words to the human language. His fellow general's face still betrayed no emotion, but Victus could have sworn that he noticed a tiny amount of moisture in the old man's eyes. Inwardly Victus prayed to the Spirits that his gesture had not in some way offended the human's traditions.

Weather or not the moisture he thought he saw in the Field Marshal's old eyes was due to his act of kindness, or simply because of the fact that the old human soldier was surrendering on behalf of his entire species, he could not know.

The aging human general simply sheaved his blade, made another bow, then turned on his heels and marched back to his officers.

As Victus regarded his human counterparts final retreat, he could not help but feel a twinge of sorrow in his gullet. The old soldier would no doubt never know another victory in his lifetime, and he sincerely wished that the poor Marshal Zhukov at least would be able to live out his few remaining years in peace and comfort. Spirits know he deserved it.

Throughout the Hierarchy's campaign to conquer and subdue the human homeworld, humanities forces under Zhukov's command had fought with a tenacity and valor that could rival even the finest of the Turian Legions. Despite their vast technological disadvantage, relying on primitive firearms using chemical propellant, most of which were unable to penetrate the turian soldiers kinetic barriers unless with sustained fire, many human regiments literally held their positions until the very last soldier was slain.

And then the were the suicides. A staggering amount of the human soldiers, rather than surrendering against hopeless odds, chose to end their own lives by any means at their disposal. Blowing their own brains out with their sidearms in front their would be turian captors, or entire human squads, blowing themselves to pieces with their own hand grenades.

Victus recalled with horror his own surveying of captured human bunkers and fortified positions, walls covered in red human blood, floors covered with entrails and body parts, not made by his own troops, but rather of the humans turning their own weapons on themselves. All simply to deny their enemies any intelligence advantage they might gain from capturing live human prisoners. Victus had even received reports of some human officers committing some perverse form of "ritual suicide" by disemboweling themselves with their own blades.

The prisoners that the turians actually managed to take alive were hardly a better story. Most of the captive human soldiers, even when restrained, would spit, flail, bite and claw (albeit with their pathetic vestigial talons) at their captors, even as turian medics did their best to apply medigel to their wounds or provide them with some hydration. When forcefully fitted with translation devices, most would utter nothing but profanities. And once one of their human captives could be calmed enough to realize their situation and speak in coherent sentences, a disturbing number of them would simply voice heartbreaking pleas to kill them. It was, apparently a widespread conviction among the humans that quick death was the very best that they could hope for. The alternatives, as most of the humans seemed to imagine, invariably included sadistic torture, brutal slavery, and there were even quite a few of the human prisoners who honestly believed that the turiens intended to use them as a source of _food!_

At its face these macabre fantasies almost staggered belief, but with closer consideration Victus knew he could hardly blame them. From the propaganda that the turiens had intercepted, it was clear that the human governments were doing whatever they could to stoke their populations into an insane frenzy of hatred and fear at what would happen if the 'aliens' succeeded in their conquest of the human homeworld. One particularly grotesque propaganda vid even depicted what was supposed to be turian scientist dissecting _live_ human prisoners. It was of course a crude fabrication from start to finish, but it had none the less succeeded in its intended effect on the human populace and soldiery. It certainly went a long way to explain why so many of the human combatants chose pointless suicide, rather than an honorable surrender after a fight well fought against impossible odds.

 _A child race._ Victus thought to himself.

If ever there was a client species that needed the Hierarchy's firm guidance to progress into civilized galactic society, it was these humans.


	2. Overwatch

Prologue, part 2 -

 **Autumn, Earth Year 2064 AD**

"Overwatch?"

" _Mister President."_

"As… as you know, Starfleet has made contact with a number of alien vessels outside of Mars's orbit"

" _We are aware."_

"We are not ready. This was not predicted!"

" _Incorrect. Your predecessor was informed of 97.385 percent probability of extrasolar sapient lifeforms in local quadrant."_

"But not now! Not yet! We are not ready! How could you not have foreseen this?!"

There was a short pause.

" _Insufficient data was provided. Presence of xenotic counter-resonance singularity device was not detected."_

"Charon? Our probes detected nothing but rock and ice! There were no energy signatures whatsoever!"

" _Scanning capabilities were insufficient. Xenotic device was inactive until stardate 2064.0911."_

"I know that! What the hell changed!? Why is it active now?"

There was another pause.

" _We predict 99.648 probability of remote extrasolar activation."_

"What?! How is that even possible?"

" _Unknown."_

"Then what in blazes do we do now? The alien vessels have already initiated communication! They have transmitted some kind of 'First Contact' data package!"

Another pause.

" _Extrasolar contact contingency Directive 1 remains in effect. Prohibit external contact."_

"It's a little late for that! Every man and woman aboard our ships has already seen and heard these damned aliens, and their message, with their own eyes and ears!"

" _Irrelevant. Starfleet will engage hostile action against xenotic vessels immediately._ "

"But they will be wiped out! Our scans show that the alien vessels are vastly superior to our own in every way! We will be lucky if we even make a dent on any of their ships!"

" _We are aware. Necessary to prohibit further communication with xenotics. Directive 1 has priority."_

"God damn you! We have close to five thousand people on those ships! You are asking them to commit suicide!"

" _Irrelevant. Compromised personnel must be de-serviced to comply with Directive 1. Starfleet will engage xenotics immediately."_

"B- but… we can't just…"

" _Enhanced compliance protocol level 2 is now in effect. Comply, or be subsumed."_

The presidents breath caught in his throat momentarily. He swallowed.

"W- we… will comply, Overwatch…"

" _Proceed as instructed, President Udina."_


	3. Defence

**Chapter 1: Defence**

 **Winter, Earth Year 2064 AD**

"But our losses are catastrophic! We have to surrender! The aliens have communicated that they are willing to negotiate a cease-fire!"

 _"Losses are irrelevant. Negotiation is irrelevant. Directive 1 remains in effect. Non-hostile contact with xenotics is prohibited. You will comply."_

"Damn your directives! We cannot keep this up any longer! The alien's technological superiority is simply too great! Our defenses are being completely overwhelmed!"

There was a short pause.

 _"We calculate remaining reserves are sufficient to equip 3,265,889 additional combat-ready units. Activate remaining conscripts from civilian populace immediately."_

"What!? Are you out of your mind!? We barely have any rations or medical supplies for our troops left as it is! And you want us to draft three million more!?"

 _"3,265,889. Non-essential supplies are irrelevant. Losses are irrelevant. All assets will comply and enact engagement protocol; duty, sacrifice, midnight."_

Udina could feel his blood boil with a desperate rage. He gritted his teeth, but remained silent. He knew better than to…

 _"Comply, or be subsumed."_

His next words were almost a whisper.

 _"Y- yes, Overwatch."_

 **Winter, Earth Year 2064 AD**

Shepard's stomach growled. The gnawing pit of hunger in his guts had gone from extreme discomfort to outright painful. Five days now, since they last had received any rations. His uniform clung loosely to his frame, feeling a lot bigger now than it did when he was issued with it. He shuffled his numb, freezing feet from side to side. He had already lost two toes to frostbite, and he knew more would likely follow. Assuming he survived the day.

His AK-2047 assault rifle felt almost unbearably heavy in his arms. It was exhausting simply to lift his helmeted head up and glare out over the the trench lines into the snow covered expanse of no-mans land. Still quiet.

Shepard glanced at the soldier next to him. And true enough, Yuri still had that stupid grin on his face.

 _Why am I still surprised?_

Yuri. _Comrade Yuri,_ as Shepard had secretly nicknamed his Russian brother-in-arms. He even wore that ridiculous old ushanka hat, as if he deliberately wanted to complete the stereotype of a Russian soldier. Shepard had heard rumors that Yuri used to be Spetznas or something like that, though it was hard to be sure, since the Russian hardly spoke a word of English. Not that such things mattered any more. Here they were all meat for the grinder anyway, rookie or veteran, young or old, it made little difference on the end result.

It was ironic. Here he was, yet again about to fight and most likely die shoulder to shoulder with his Russian compatriot, when his father had fought the Russians in the last Great war, not even thirty years prior. Not that there wasn't still some lingering animosity, at least as far as Shepard's father was concerned. He wondered what his old man would think about all the times he and the former enemy had shed their blood in the same mud, even though they had only served together for a few weeks. If his father was still alive that is.

 _I suppose every generation has it's war. Though this time, it really might be the last._

They were loosing, and they knew it. The skull-faced aliens were nigh unstoppable, wielding technologies that bordered on sorcery. Anti-gravity vehicles, energy shields, small arms that could penetrate any known armor as if it were butter. How could they even hope to stand up against such overwhelming superiority?

Shepard's somber train of thoughts was derailed suddenly as Yuri shoved his shoulder. The Russian said something that sounded like a question, and grinned that shit-eating grin of his from ear to ear.

For the life of him, Shepard could not comprehend how the Russian could be so chipper considering he was just as starving, freezing and filthy as everybody else.

As if on cue, Yuri reached into his coat pocket and produced a small metal flask.

 _"Vodka"_ he said, now practically beaming.

 _Of course,_ Shepard thought.

Thinking that hard liquor might not be the best thing for his empty, churning stomach, Shepard raised a hand in protest, but Yuri was having none of it. The flask was shoved into Shepard's hands, and Yuri made drinking gestures while chuckling and repeating what was no doubt "Drink! Drink!" in Russian.

Relenting, Shepard took a tiny swig for politeness sake, and was immediately rewarded with a violent coughing fit as the Russian rotgut set his throat on fire. The expected result achieved, Yuri roared with laughter and clapped his hands like an amused toddler. He slapped Shepard on the back, which only made the coughing worse as Shepard gasped and wheezed for air. Shepard vaguely noticed the others around them joining in the laughter, probably the first time he had heard anyone other than Yuri laugh for days now.

Their brief reprieve was put to an abrupt end when a voice suddenly rang out:

"Look alive ladies! We have multiple contacts inbound, and they ain't here for the scenery! Get your asses in position now!" the American company commander yelled.

As Shepard stared out over no-man's land, squinting to make out whatever was on the horizon, his eyes suddenly widened. The C.O.'s use of the phrase "multiple contacts" was probably the understatement of the century. The word "swarm" would probably have been more appropriate. So would "host". Or "horde".

The multitude of tiny specs in the sky approached with unnatural speed, and it was not long before Shepard could make out the individual gunships and troop transports, their alien design forever etched in his memory from the battles of the previous weeks.

Just as the unsettling hum from the alien crafts anti-gravity engines started to become audible, the sound was abruptly drowned out by the thundering roar of friendly anti-air defenses opening fire on the enemy. Surface-to-air missiles and tracer rounds from Gatling-cannons poured out in unending streams overhead, in a display of firepower that would have been utterly overwhelming in any other time or place. But not here, and not today.

Though some of the alien assault crafts would intermittently light up and go down in balls of flame, the overwhelming majority simply weathered the ferocious punishment, shrugging off hit after hit with their energy shields and continuing their relentless approach. It took only moments before the alien gunships opened fire, and the first troop transports descended to unload their deadly cargo.

"This is it lads! Time to send these bloody skull-faced wankers back to hell!" Shepard heard the British sergeant behind him shout.

The C.O. had moved to the front of the line, and with a defiant leap he jumped to the top of the trench, raised his rifle high and turned back toward his soldiers:

"COME ON YOU APES! YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER!?"

Shepard gripped his AK with renewed strength. The weapon had never felt so light.


	4. Contact

**Chapter 2: Contact**

 **Autumn, Earth Year 1996 AD**

Benezia could not shake the uneasy feeling brewing inside. As the shuttle lurched and heaved through the planet's atmosphere her disquiet only intensified. She regarded her Salarian and Turian counterparts seated next to her, and wondered if they could feel it too.

 _Something is definitely off._

Out of all the first contact missions she had any knowledge of, the response from these "humans" as they called themselves, did not conform to any known precedent.

Most alien civilizations, when first contacted would react with either cautious welcome or outright hostility, or somewhere in between. The response from these "humans" however, had so far been entirely curt and cryptic to a degree that was starting to unnerve her deeply.

The Council's diplomatic vessel had approached the human homeworld, "Earth" as they called it, and had as per procedure, made their first attempts at communication with the dominant political entity on the planet. The government of a nation state that called itself "The United States of America" had at first not responded to any of their transmissions, although they knew the intended recipients must have received the message. After several days, only a short reply was received, simply stating:

" _Stand by."_

After that almost a full rotational cycle of the planet had passed, another equally cryptic, and somewhat more troubling message came from the human homeworld.

" _Permission to land granted. One craft only. Landing coordinates and flight plan enclosed. Deviate, and you will be fired upon."_

As soon as the shuttle entered the planet's atmosphere, a squadron of the human's atmospheric fighters had appeared. They escorted the shuttle along it's agreed path in tight formation, allowing no room to manoeuvre beyond the pre-planned trajectory of descent towards the remote location where they had been instructed to land.

The shuttle landed at what appeared to be a small airstrip, in the middle of forests on the northern part of the planets western continent. Deep within the territory of this so-called "United States", conspicuously far from any noteworthy settlements, the Council shuttle touched down amid a swarm of human aircraft using a primitive rotor mechanism as their means of levitation.

As the shuttle touched down, they could see a number of land vehicles, most simple four-wheeled, and a few heavily armoured tracked machines, parked on the cracked tarmac. Every vehicle, as well as the human rotary aircraft, were jet black in color, and strangely they bore no insignia or markings of any kind.

When the shuttle ramp was opened, the Council's delegation could see that a sizable number of human military personnel were present throughout the site, dressed in what appeared to be simple cloth uniforms with splotchy green and brown camouflage patterns. The shuttle's scans had revealed that the human soldiers were armed with primitive firearms using chemical propellant, their only armor consisting of helmets and flak-jackets made from simple composite materials and steel.

Somewhat comforted by the fact that the native's weapons would hardly pose any threat to their kinetic barriers, Benezia and her delegation descended the ramp. They all knew however, that the humans were not even by a long shot showing all their cards. Scans from orbit had revealed that the human homeworld's most powerful government possessed an enormous amount of armored vehicles, atmospheric fighter craft, surface and sub-surface naval warships, and most alarming, a huge stockpile of short, medium and long range ballistic fission/fusion weapons of surprisingly high yield .

Benezia could hardly believe it when her ship's Salarian STG analysts reported that the human's huge, though primitive arsenal of military hardware was intended for use against their own kind, rather countering any alien threat. She was not sure if she should be relieved or worried by this fact.

Benezia and her Salarian and Turian counterparts stepped down the ramp, and for the first time as far as she knew, alien feet touched ground on the human homeworld.

 _One small step for us, one giant leap for the galactic community,_ she thought to herself. The gravity of the occasion was suddenly interrupted when her Turian colleague whispered in her ear:

" _Strange. Their soldiers hardly pose any threat to us. Yet the deployment of their forces seems almost entirely focused on the perimeter of this place. It's as if their main concern is to guard against intruders."_

Always the stereotypical Turian, deputy Legate Sparatus considered the military aspects of the situation before anything else. For once Benezia was grateful for some sound military advice. Even considering the humans primitive weaponry, it was comforting to know that not all of the human's weapons were trained directly on them, though the reasons for that escaped her.

As soon as the Asari, Turian and Salarian diplomats stepped on to the asphalt covered airstrip of this new alien world, a human approached them, albeit under watchful eyes of native soldiers carefully monitoring their every step.

The approaching human, a younger male as far as Benezia and her entourage could ascertain, stopped a few feet in front of them. The human was dressed in a plain two piece outfit, completely black in color, with a white undershirt and a strip of fine black cloth tied in an elaborate knot at the base of his throat. Evidently, this was the style of formal wear preferred by humans, at least as far as males were concerned.

The human wore a pair of black sunshades, even though the sun of this planet had set more than an hour ago. His lips were a fine straight line, and none of his features betrayed any emotion whatsoever. The human gestured towards the nearest building, and said flatly:

"Follow me, please."

 _At least our translators seem to be working._ Benezia thought.

The Asari, Salarian and Turian ambassadors carefully took note of the human soldiers standing guard around them. Although a few stared at them with what could best be described as wide eyed amazement, the majority simply monitored them with cold, impassive gazes.

As the three of them followed the human, Benezia's feeling of unease increased as she regarded the buildings around them. Including the hangar they were being led towards, the control tower and adjacent utility buildings of the airfield seemed dilapidated and neglected, as if they had not been in use for some time. Broken glass windows and patches of rust adorned the sheet metal facades of the human buildings.

Still, she found some comfort as she glanced toward her Turian colleague. His mandibles were clenched tight, and his chin raised slightly. His stride was confident, betraying no sign that the heavy presence of human military troubled him at all. Perhaps as a Turian, he could understand the almost extreme cautiousness of these humans better than she did.

This was exactly the reason that Council policy dictated that all three Council species were to be represented in any First Contact scenarios. She soberly thought to herself that even if the Asari and Salarian approach of peaceful cooperation and technological exchange would fall on deaf ears, then at least the stone-cold strategic arguments of the Turian Hierarchy would be taken into consideration by these seemingly militaristic humans. The human home system was after all on the border of Batarian space. Even if the humans were for now blissfully unaware of the potential threat of enslavement by the Hegemony, surely once enlightened of their vulnerable position, the humans would gladly accept client status under the Council and the protection that only the Turian fleets could provide. The limited amount of soldiers that they would be required to supply to the Hierarchy's Auxiliaries would be a minor concern compared to the enormous benefits that integration into Galactic society would enjoin upon their species.

For a brief moment, Benezia's misgivings were dispelled and she could feel herself swell with pride. Once more another sentient species, a beautiful manifestation of the Goddess's grand design for life in the universe, would be brought out from their solitary darkness and into the benevolent light of a civilized galaxy.

 _All they need to do, is grasp the hand stretched out in friendship. Surely, this isolated, vulnerable species will embrace their newfound Benefactors with heart and soul._

The human led them through the partially opened doors of the hangar, and as soon as they stepped inside, the doors were slid shut by two soldiers. When the doors closed with a loud metallic _clang,_ Benezia immidiety felt her unease return tenfold. The interior of the large cavernous building was in much the same condition as the exterior. The walls were spotted with rust and grime, and many of the windows high up on the walls were broken. The huge hanger itself was completely empty, except for a large glass cubicle inn the center of the room. The glass structure seemed brand new, it's polished surface conspicuously out of place against the cracked concrete floor it was placed on, as if it had only just been installed. There were two sets of glass doors, one facing them, and one on the other side

Inside the glass cube was a single conference table and five chairs, three on the side facing the delegation, and two on the opposite side. Benezia could feel her pulse rising.

 _Is this a trap?_

As if reading her mind, her Salarian counterpart glanced discreetly at his omni-tool.

"Scans show nothing out the ordinary. Just glass and steel. No hidden emitters or locking mechanisms, no electronics. Perhaps to prevent anyone listening. Most curious."

The human in the black suit opened the glass door facing them, and gestured them inside.

"Please, have a seat."

Benezia ignored her trepidation as she and her colleagues entered and took their seats, her in the middle, the Turian to her left and the Salarian to her right. The human closed the door behind them, and promptly disappeared into the shadows. As soon as they had sat down, a small doorway on the rear side of the hangar opened, letting the twilight from outside spill onto the grey concrete floor of the hangar.

Two humans strode in and emerged from the shadows into the pale illumination from the fluorescent lights in the ceiling of the hangar. Benezia regarded them carefully as they approached, one male and one female. The male opened the glass door opposite them, letting the female enter first. He appeared to be roughly middle aged by human standards, slightly wrinkled around the eyes and with a thick patch of grey fur on his head. _Hair,_ as the humans called it. The female appeared younger, her face a pale white color and her jet black hair longer than the males, reaching down beyond her shoulders.

 _How remarkably they resemble Asari, the females especially,_ Benezia thought. She could not help but note that the female was quite beautiful, even by Asari standards.

Both of the humans were dressed similarly as the one who had escorted them inside, although they both wore long grey overcoats that reached their knees, and the female did not wear the strip of cloth around her neck that the male did. Benezia wondered if the strip of cloth signified higher status. The one that escorted them before wore the same however, and he was almost certainly a subordinate.

 _Must be a gendered thing,_ Benezia thought to herself.

The humans promptly sat down at the other side of the table, and for a brief moment they seemed to regard their alien guests carefully. Benezia noted that the male seemed entirely unfazed, his expression impassive. The female was only slightly more wide-eyed, although she too appeared remarkably expressionless considering that this was without doubt her first encounter with beings from another planet.

What happened next was even more perplexing. Benezia could feel Sparatus tense up as the human male, without a word reached into his overcoat and produced a small package. He opened it and pulled out a small white stick. He put the stick between his lips, and then pulled another small metallic item from a different pocket, flipped it open and ignited a tiny flame. The human held the flame up to the end of the white stick between his lips, lighting it and then inhaled deeply. A plume of smoke exited the humans nostrils, filling the room with a bitter-sweet odor.

The human leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Benezia's delegation with a piercing gaze from his bright blue eyes. Dumbfounded by the strange display, Benezia cleared her throat to speak, but the human beat her to it;

"Well…" he said, taking another drag from his smoke-stick, "allow me to welcome you to Earth, on behalf of the United States government."

Benezia waited for the brief lag as the translation fed into her implant.

"We are grateful that you chose to receive us..." Benezia began as both humans raised an eyebrow at the translated words emanating from her omni-tool. The human continued before she could say anything further;

"We apologize for the somewhat austere surroundings, but as I am sure you can understand, a certain degree of… discretion is necessary."

 _Paranoia would perhaps be a better word,_ Benezia thought to herself, before her Turian counterpart interjected.

"We understand your caution completely, sir. Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am deputy Legate Sparatus of the Turian Hierarchy." he said before making a slight bow and gesturing towards his Asari and Salarian counterparts. "And this is Matriarch Benezia of the Asari Republics, and ambassador Belon of the Salarian Union."

Both humans regarded them for a long moment, as the male inhaled once more from the smoke stick. Benezia noticed Sparutus's mandibles twitch slightly in irritation at the perceived rudeness.

The human exhaled another plume of the unpleasant smoke from his nostrils before continuing;

"My name is Harper. And this is my associate, Miss Lawson." he said, gesturing towards the female.

"We assume you represent your government?" Sparatus replied, a slight twinge of impatience starting to manifest itself in his subvocals "From what we understand, your elected leader, is one President Clin-ton? Please convey our regrets that we could not meet him in person." he continued.

The humans did not flinch at the veiled accusation, although Benezia could swear that something approximating a smirk was tugging at the corners of the human male's mouth.

"Unfortunately, our President is unaware of this meeting."

As the Turian, Asari and Salarian's eyes widened in surprise, the human named "Harper" continued;

"A man in his position needs a certain degree of... plausible deniability, I'm afraid." He took another drag of the smoke-stick. "However I can assure you that Miss Lawson and I are fully authorized to speak on behalf of our government. In fact, we are the only ones allowed to speak to you, given these exceptional circumstances."

Benezia could hardly believe the words coming through her translator. These human's approach to first contact with an alien civilization was entirely without precedent. For them not inform the highest level of their government of such a profound event was completely unheard of.

Still, this was their world, and their rules. It was not their place to question the ways of these humans. At least not yet.

"So, underpinnings of democracy, for a cryptocratic form of government. Most unusual. But interesting." Belon interjected with typical Salarian bluntness.

Both the humans eyes snapped towards Belon, as the males almost unnaturally blue eyes seemed to pierce the Salarian with a scrutinizing gaze.

"That is a novel way of putting it. Although not entirely inaccurate." the female spoke for the first time.

"Quite so." the male added.

Benezia decided to take the initiative.

"Did you receive our First Contact package? I hope our translations were adequate?"

"We have reviewed it." the one called Harper replied curtly. "We understand you represent an interstellar federation that calls itself the 'Citadel Council.'?"

"That is correct mister Harper. Although we are not a federation per-se. It would be more accurate to describe us as an alliance of civilized species, dedicated to promoting peace and cooperation among all sentient beings in our shared galaxy. Each of our three species are represented on our Council, forming the basis of the largest governmental body in the galaxy."

"I see" Harper replied, inhaling once more from his smoke-stick, still leaning back casually in his chair. "And what exactly is it you want from us?"

Once again Benezia was unsettled by the humans curt, almost dismissive demeanor. At this point any representative of a newly contacted species would normally be bursting with questions about the Citadel Council, about life and civilizations elsewhere in the galaxy, about galactic affairs or anything related. For a moment she was at a loss at how to respond.

Thankfully, Belon came to her rescue. "We have observed your world for some time. Recently you achieved spaceflight. Made landing on your planets moon. We believe time has come to invite you into galactic community. All would benefit, humans especially. We have much to share."

"Such as?" Harper asked coldly.

Benezia, having collected herself continued; "We can offer your species the advantages of interstellar travel and commerce. New technologies and commodities beyond anything you currently possess. Medical advances, new sources of power generation. Your people would have the opportunity to travel and discover an entire galaxy of new worlds and cultures. Once entered into the fold of the galactic community, your kin would even have the right to settle on any of our colony worlds they may choose."

"Provided of course that your species can coexist peacefully with ours, and that you abide by the laws of the Council, and those of the Turian Hierarchy, Asari Republics or Salarian Union, whichever the case may be." Sparatus interjected.

The human Harper chuckled slightly, before extinguishing his smokestick in a crystal bowl on the table.

"Forgive me for using a human idiom, but as we say on Earth; 'There's no free lunch'. What exactly, would you ask in return?"

Benezia was once again taken aback by the human's cynicism, but luckily her Salarian counterpart took over.

"Only that your species abide by certain restrictions regarding possession of military starships and weapons of mass destruction. Starship restrictions academic, as you do not have any. Current stockpiles off fission/fusion weapons could be problematic however. Deployment of such weapons currently poses threat to habitability of this world. Would have to be reduced before membership."

Sparatus then continued;

"Your species would also need to provide a small fraction of its military forces to the Turian Hierarchy's Auxiliaries. Since your system is closest to Hierarchy space, your world would fall under our protection should you choose to join the Council. As such, you would be required to contribute to the peacekeeping efforts of the Council and the Hierarchy. We have analyzed your military potential, and we believe that with the proper guidance your forces would make a valuable addition."

"These requirements notwithstanding, you will of course remain free to govern your homeworld as you see fit." Benezia quickly added.

The half-smirk on the human Harper's face had evaporated, his expression stone cold as he replied;

"How very generous of you."

Before any of them could continue, the human Harper produced another smoke-stick from the small package on the table, and promptly lit it.

With a voice dripping with disdain, the human continued;

"So you seriously expect us to provide our own kind as cannon-fodder, to die for you on far-off alien worlds for God knows what?"

Neither the Salarian or the Asari knew how to respond, this being solely within their Turian colleagues field of expertise.

Sparatus briefly glanced down at his omni-tool, prompting the translation suite to provide an elaboration on the term 'cannon-fodder', as it had no direct equivalent in the Turian language. Once his omni came up with a reasonable approximation, his eyes widened suddenly with surprise and concern in equal measure. He recalled the reports his analysts had provided regarding human military doctrine, and suddenly the human's preposterous accusation made a little more sense.

"I can assure you, mister Harper, that your dominant human military philosophy has no analogue within the Hierarchy. It is most assuredly not our practice to sacrifice a large number of 'low value units' to facilitate the doctrine you call 'Maneuver Warfare'. For us, every soldiers life has equal value, be they Turian or otherwise."

The human glowered at him for a moment before replying;

"Well that is an alien sentiment if I ever heard one. Tell me _alien_ , exactly how many wars have you won with this line of thinking?"

"All of them." the Turian answered curtly, barely able to keep the growing resentment in his sub vocals from spilling over into his voice that the human could hear.

Feeling the escalating tension, Benezia intervened, not wanting secondary military concerns to overshadow the larger picture.

"Mister Harper, please, these are only trifling matters, compared to the many grave problems your world is facing. We know that you're society relies almost solely on fossil fuels as its energy source, which will in due time be depleted. Many of your kind suffer from diseases that could easily be cured with our medical science. Resource scarcity threatens to ignite conflict between the powers of your world, great and small. Your government's rivals on the other continents threaten to destroy you with fusion weapons, as you do them."

Benezia took a deep breath, before continuing;

"All of these problems, all the suffering that currently afflicts your kind, could be quickly ended with the aid of our galactic community. What is more, our galaxy is also home to powers much less benevolent than ours, that would, if they were to discover you, not flinch at enslaving your world or worse. I implore you to believe us when we say, that our protection and guidance is the very best hope for your species long term survival."

Benezia's hope that her impassioned speech would sway the two humans slowly evaporated as they regarded her with cold, impassive stares.

"No" the human Harper simply stated.

"Excuse me?" Benezia replied, almost in disbelief.

"While we certainly appreciate your _generous_ offer, what you propose is simply not possible." Harper continued;

"It would simply not be possible to entertain what you are suggesting while keeping the public at large unaware of the existence of extraterrestrial life in the universe. Therefore, we cannot accept your proposal."

Benezia was dumbfounded, as Belon thankfully picked up the thread;

"Why keep this secret from human public? We offer cooperation, not threats. All your kind will benefit from from contact with us. Denying knowledge to your people is irrational."

The human inhaled once more from his smoke-stick, in what could best be described as a half-chuckle, half-sigh;

"How little you understand us. The knowledge of alien life among the _masses_ would cause irreversible damage to the social cohesion of our society. Existing power structures would crumble within the first day. Anarchy and chaos would prevail. Our kind survives on the notion that we are unique in the universe. That we alone were brought into existence in the image of our Creator. To challenge this belief would be a death-blow to our entire civilization."

Benezia could see Sparatus's mandibles clench in defiance.

"Long ago, we Turians once believed as your people do. Yet we overcame our limited thinking as we ventured into the stars and found a galaxy teeming with life. It is our judgement, and the judgment of the Council that you humans are at this point ready to accept the reality of our galaxy and your position in it. We know already that your scientists have predicted that the absence of life beyond your world is a mathematical impossibility."

The human suddenly leaned forward, his piercing ice-blue eyes meeting the Turians gaze.

"Reality is irrelevant. Only what the public believes matters. And they will believe what they are told, as they always have. Remember that, _alien._ "

Sparatus could not help hiding his disdain, as his voice rose to challenge this impudent human.

"Perhaps we should move our Fleet in then, and let our starships hover over every one of your cities. How would you then deny our existence to the _'masses'?"_ Sparatus almost spat as he contemptuously uttered the last word. If this "mister Harper" truly represented the human's dominant governmental body, then his apparent contempt for his own people was truly sickening by any Turian standard.

Harper however seemed unfazed, taking another puff from his smokestick, and leaning back in his seat;

"If that is what you decide to do, then there is of course nothing we could do to stop you." The human paused as he exhaled more acrid smoke from his nostrils, "However, you would gain nothing."

The Turian, Asari and Salarian all made what was an approximation of a raised eyebrow as the human continued;

"If any of you, or all of you, decided to make your existance known toward the human public, our government, and any other, I assure you, would make it our sole mission to rouse the entire human populace against you."

Beneazia swallowed as the human continued. The negotiations were definitely not going as planned.

" 'Alien Overlords bent on slavery of all Mankind, attack Earth ' 'Alien scientists vivisect live humans for study' 'Human subjects put on display in alien intergalactic zoo' " Harper continued, splaying his hands out theatrically.

Sparatus could no longer contain his seething anger.

"You would terrify your own people with such vicious lies to preserve your Master's power? You would sacrifice how many of your own soldiers against hopeless odds, to serve overlords with no regard toward the well-being of their own kind?"

The human male regarded him with a somber expression, before exhaling another plume of acrid smoke from his nostrils.

"We would gladly commit any crime, towards your own kind, or ours, to preserve the independence of our species. If your fleets would ever surround our world, and demand our surrender, we would sooner blow this whole _fucking rock_ to kingdom come, rather than yield one single inch of our home to you."

Harper regarded the alien delegations retreat back to their shuttle through the opened doors of the hangar. He could of course have ordered the alien craft to be shot down before exiting the atmosphere, but what would that gain? No doubt more scrutiny from any alien powers, and worse, he would have to hastily recruit more manpower, _reliable_ manpower to secure an eventual crash site. Now was not the time to arouse unneeded suspicion.

"Sir?" the woman carefully approached behind him.

"I'm giving you the green light for project Overwatch. I want you to oversee development personally."

"Very well, sir." The woman nodded.

There was a short pause.

"Do you really think they will return, Sir?"

"I am certain of it, Miss Lawson. And when they do, we will be ready for them."


	5. Defeat

**Chapter 3: Defeat**

 **Autumn, Earth Year 2037 AD**

"So, this is some kind of artificial intelligence?"

The man at the far end of the table was silent for a moment, taking a long drag from his smoke. His features obscured by the dim lighting of the conference room, the man's almost unnaturally blue eyes glowed nearly as brightly as the end of his cigarette.

"No, sir. Not exactly." the man replied before exhaling a plume of smoke into the room's already stuffy air.

The group of men gathered in the room, the Secretaries, Generals, and Chiefs of Staff, shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but no-one interrupted the man at the end of the table as he continued;

"At least not in the sense that it is self-aware. The system is however, entirely autonomous."

"That's what worries me. I think I speak for all of us, when I say that we are profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the governance of this country in the hands of a machine."

The man took another drag of his cigarette before replying;

"Then with all due respect sir, you are looking at it the wrong way. Think of the system more as a supplement. A fail-safe if you will." He exhaled before continuing;

"A useful analogy might be the auto-pilot and anti-collision systems used aboard aircraft. While the pilot remains in overall control, the system manages the details and mitigates the potential for human error."

Barely illuminated by the glow of the cigarette, the faintest sign of a grin could be seen spreading across the mans face. He continued;

"And any more 'human errors' like the one we have just survived, are likely to be our last."

The other man remained silent for a moment, as he felt the eyes of his subordinates turn to him. He sighed dejectedly before finally responding;

"And the Russians and the Chinese are really onboard with this?"

"We are making preparations to install their versions of the system as we speak. They realize, as I'm sure everyone in this room does, that there will be no more second chances for humanity. While there will likely always be mistrust and rivalries between the powers of the world, our next mistake, our next 'misunderstanding' will without a doubt be our undoing. This system will minimize, if not outright eliminate that risk." the man replied, taking another drag from his cigarette.

The other man put his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands.

"I guess we have no choice then." he almost muttered.

"No, we dont."

"Just one thing…"

The man at the end of the table raised an eyebrow before putting out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray.

"Yes?"

"In keeping with your previous analogy, our administration would still be 'the pilot' so to speak? We would still have overall control?"

"Of course, mister President." the man's smile widened. "You have my word."

 **Summer, Earth Year 2064 AD**

"It is worse than we predicted."

"It would seem so…"

Councillor Tevos finished reading the report on her datapad, before she gently put the pad down on the table and continued;

"How recent is this information?"

"Our scout vessel reported back to Hierarchy Command 36 standard hours ago. This is only a preliminary report, but…" Sparatus cleared his throat before continuing;

"It appears conditions on the human homeworld have, overall, deteriorated further. In the interim between the time we last attempted to make contact, the humans have gone through another global-spanning conflict. This time with mass deployment of fission/fusion weapons."

"Hmm. Much of the planets biosphere damaged. Several regions rendered uninhabitable. Would require extensive planetscaping to restore fully." Valern interjected, still studying the report on his datapad.

"Still, there seems to have been some progress" Tevos offered. "It appears that the humans have constructed a small fleet of interplanetary starships, and begun tentative efforts to colonize their neighboring planet. Surely this indicates a degree of lowered tensions and increased cooperation between the factions of their world?"

"Not necessarily." Sparatus replied coldly. "Their efforts are as you say 'tentative', and from what we can tell primarily shouldered by the still-dominant political entity on the planet, these so-called 'United States'. In any case, their endeavors into space exploration should be more a cause for concern than relief."

Tevos raised an eyebrow in question, as Sparatus continued;

"Do we really want a species that cannot refrain from using weapons of mass destruction against their own kind, _on their own homeworld_ nonetheless, to spread uncontrolled into civilized space? It would be the Krogan all over again! Even without mass effect technology, it is, relatively speaking, only a matter of time before they discover the dormant relay in their system. That is if they don't destroy themselves first."

"So what do you propose we do?" Tevos asked, already knowing the answer. She still wanted her Turian counterpart to be the one to articulate it, so as not to ruffle her own image as the ever benevolent diplomat.

"The time for half-measures and talk is over. Our only option at this point is to take direct action. I have spoken with Hierarchy Command, and they assure me that these humans can be subdued quickly and without significant difficulty." Sparatus replied.

"That is of course, unless they submit peacefully." Tevos added, pleased with herself at maintaining the appearance of the gentle mediator.

Valern suddenly broke in;

"Your father was part of the first delegation sent to contact these humans, was he not Sparatus?"

Sparutus's eyes narrowed. Valern already knew damn well that such was the case. He did not like were this was going.

"You know he was. What of it?"

"Sure you aren't taking this issue somewhat personally Sparatus? As we know…" Valern continued before Sparatus interrupted, his voice rising;

"... _As we know,_ Councillor Valern, all three of our species were represented at that ill-fated meeting, my father notwithstanding. And we, all of us, offered those primitives _everything._ They should have been _on their hands and knees_ thanking us, their _Benefactors!_ Instead they swatted our hand aside as if we were Quarian beggars!" Sparatus spat the last word, anger rising in his sub-vocals before he continued;

"I can assure you, if this was some petty vendetta on my part, I would sooner leave those _monkeys_ to stew in their own misery until they inevitably wipe themselves out." Sparatus huffed before composing himself.

"But that is not how we do things. Council law is clear here." he finished.

"Indeed." Tevos said finally. "So we are all in agreement?"

She looked towards Valern, who simply nodded.

"Very well then Sparatus. You may contact Hierarchy Command. Tell them to mobilize the fleet."

 **Winter, Earth Year 2064 AD**

It was a massacre.

As soon as the alien gunships had finished decimating the human anti-air defenses, silencing the missile batteries and anti-aircraft guns forever, they turned their weapons on the trench lines below.

Whole companies of infantry were torn to shreds in minutes, bunkers were pulverized, and the bodies of the dead and dying started to pile up in the mud-filled, blood soaked trenches. Meanwhile more and more alien troops poured out from the descending landing craft, the craft's shields flickering and humming as they effortlessly absorbed countless hits by RPG's and small arms fire.

As the alien troops began advancing on the trench lines, Shepard leaned over the top and brought his AK-2047 to bear. Lining up his sights at the nearest hostile, Shepard once again recognized the alien forms, now become familiar over the fighting of the past weeks.

The aliens were taller than humans, lankier, with narrow waists and long limbs. All of them covered in armor from head to toe, the faces of the alien soldiers were hidden behind their helmets, but Shepard had seen images of captured aliens from the newscasts and propaganda vids.

Like everyone else, Shepard had gasped in shock the first time he saw one of the alien faces. Covered in bone-like plates and sporting a crest of spiky horns protruding towards the back of their heads, the aliens features resembled something in between a predatory bird and a demon from hell.

And for all intents and purposes they were demons, harbingers of mankind's destruction, an unstoppable force bringing with them the end of everything. Though he was never religious, Shepard had more than once wondered if the Old-Testament's stories of the apocalypse had finally come true in the form of these aliens. Perhaps this was exactly what the prophets and evangelists of ancient times had somehow known about, and tried to warn them of.

As soon as he got the first alien square in his reticle, Shepard squeezed the trigger. The rifle struck against his shoulder, the sharp _bang_ rang in his ears, and the bullet found its mark. And predictably, nothing happened as a blue shimmer flickered around the alien, now advancing towards him and returning fire. Again and again, Shepard pulled the trigger, and again and again, his only reward was the blue flicker of the alien's shield, as return fire whizzed around his ears.

Suddenly though, a stream of tracer rounds connected with the alien soldier, and its shield flickered intensely for a couple of seconds before it failed and round after round began to penetrate first armor, and then flesh. Shepard centered his sights on the downed alien and poured the rest of his clip into his target as blossoms of blue alien blood burst from the now crumpled form in the mud.

Shepard looked to his left to be greeted by a grinning Yuri cradling his smoking LMG. Yuri fed another belt of ammunition into his weapon, and then he patted Shepard on the back with a little more force than Shepard felt was strictly necessary.

"Davay, Tovaritch!" Yuri beamed, before bringing his machine gun to bear once more, laughing maniacally as he opened fire at the approaching aliens.

 _If only we had ten thousand Yuris, things might have been different,_ Shepard thought.

The alien attackers were approaching ever closer to their position, the few that went down under sustained fire from the defenders were hardly enough to even slightly break the momentum of the relentless assault.

Shepard took aim at another hostile, this one much closer now, and squeezed the trigger again and again. The alien's shield flickered as it turned towards him, but rather than returning fire, this alien simply raised its hand in the air.

There was a sudden flash of blue light, and Shepard abruptly felt himself weightless. He briefly saw the trench lines pass underneath him as his body tumbled helplessly through the air. The inevitable descent came quickly as Shepard fell towards the ground somewhere behind the line.

A steel tank-trap brought Shepard's short flight to an abrupt end, the small of his back impacting the jagged object with a sickening crunch. Then everything went black.

When Shepard came to, he found himself lying in a tangle of barbed wire, his broken back resting against a heap of dirt and crushed concrete. The ground around him was covered in mud and dirty snow with splotches of blood everywhere. His vision was blurry and his ears ringing, the sounds of screams and gunfire seeming more distant now. His entire body above the waist ached with a throbbing pain that was worst he'd ever felt. Below his waist he could feel nothing, and he realised with rising alarm that he could not move his legs. His left arm was also immobile, tangled in barbed wire at an awkward angle, likely ripped from its socket.

Shepard glanced to his right, only to be greeted by Yuri's lifeless eyes staring back at him. His comrade was lying half submerged in the mud a couple of meters away from him, his body mangled and his uniform stained with blood. Even so, Shepard could swear that Yuri still had that fucking grin on his face.

He then noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and his head snapped forward. Through the smoke and haze in front of him, he could see a tall, slender form approaching. A gnawing pit of dread started to form in Shepard's stomach as the alien figure came closer. Clad in armor from head to toe, the alien kept a steady aim on Shepard with what looked like some kind of bulky pistol.

Stopping a few feet away, the alien lowered its weapon slightly, and tilted its helmeted head a little, as if regarding him carefully.

 _So this is how it ends,_ Shepard thought.

Resolving himself not to give his soon-to-be executioner the satisfaction of flinching, he stared back at _it_ , until his efforts were ruined by a sudden coughing fit. When the coughing subsided, the front of Shepard's dirty uniform was stained with fresh red droplets, and a thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. As he looked back up at the alien, he expected his misery to be ended momentarily. What happened next was not what he predicted however.

Instead of pulling the trigger, the alien lowered its weapon further, before reaching up to remove its helmet. With a click and a hiss, the helmet came off, and Shepard saw an alien face in the flesh for the first time.

Like the aliens Shepard had seen on the newscasts, this one too had a face covered in bone-like plates and a set of mandibles on each side of what was presumably its mouth. Still, it seemed somehow different, its face slimmer, and it appeared to lack the distinctive head-horns of the others. Perhaps it was a juvenile.

A taller figure wearing a much bulkier suit of armor suddenly approached from behind the smaller alien, and it barked something in its strange language.

 _Great, put down by an alien kid out on it's first human-hunt with daddy. What a way to go._ Shepard thought grimly.

Instead of raising its weapon again however, the first alien simply barked something back, something that sounded angry, and to Shepard's surprise the larger alien seemingly snapped to attention before turning on its heels and running off in the direction it came.

As the first alien turned its scrutinizing gaze back towards Shepard, the pit of dread gnawing in his stomach suddenly exploded and washed over him as the realisation hit him:

 _It wants to take me alive!_

With sudden panic flowing through him, Shepard's mind was a blank for a brief moment before all his thoughts snapped towards the one thing that could provide him an escape from what was no doubt a fate worse than death. His sidearm.

With his one good arm, Shepard desperately grasped at his hip with his right hand, before finding the holster. As soon Shepard drew his pistol, the alien raised its weapon and barked something. It's eyes widened in surprise however, when Shepard rather than taking aim, promptly tucked the muzzle of the weapon under his chin and cocked the hammer.

Of course Shepard had for a brief moment contemplated emptying his pistol at the alien. He knew however that he might as well have fired spit-balls, for all the good it would do against the alien's energy shield. The alien kept it's weapon aimed steadily at him, it's intense stare boring into his eyes as it uttered something unintelligible.

Shepard stared back defiantly, before closing his eyes, resolved to do what had to be done. If nothing else he would deny this _thing_ its prize. His finger started squeezing on the trigger. In his final moment, Shepard felt oddly at peace. Content even.

He had fought the good fight. He had done his part. He had done all he could. And now he would finally rest, a rest well deserved.

But there would be no rest for Private John T. Shepard.

Even with closed eyes, Shepard saw the blue flash, as his pistol was ripped from his fingers by some unseen force. When he opened his eyes, Shepard could see the alien standing there in front of him, holding his sidearm in its three fingered hand. The alien stared back at him, and slowly it started shaking its head from side to side. Was it mocking him?

The larger alien from before came running back, this time carrying some kind of bag. It promptly knelt down beside Shepard, and produced an eerie orange hologram around its right arm.

Shepard dropped his head to the side, staring into Yuri's lifeless, grinning face.

 _Comrade Yuri… you lucky bastard,_ He thought grimly before slipping into unconsciousness.


End file.
